100 Quilts · Journal Entry · Quilt Finish

Visitors. . . and a Story

We had some visitors from out of town last week. It was my daughter Barbara and her three kids: Cute, Cute and Cute. And Cute. Did I mention that they were cute? All my grandchildren are cute. I’m so very lucky.

And now, a story.
Some time ago, I’d made a quilt with pinks and blues and cherries and flowers and was so frugal with my fabric I had enough for another quilt leftover. I starting piecing the pinwheels and put them up on the pin wall, and then was stuck. I tried this combo and that combo and nothing would come together.

Then one horrid horrid day, our friend Heather wrote to say that she had Stage IV metastatic breast cancer, and it had spread to her liver, and maybe her brain but they were doing CT scans checking, checking. We waited. Good news! No brain mets, as she said.

I began to work again on the stuck quilt. Only I knew now it was for Heather so it flew together in a glorious explosion of work and love and tears and care for our friend. I thought long and hard about what to name it.

I arranged a visit to see her shortly before she would begin her first of six rounds of chemotherapy, a grueling process. I wanted her to have the quilt. I had in my mind what I wanted to call it, carrying along my pen to sign and write the name on the back, just in case I was right.

We had one of those happy-sad-teary-laughing conversations about what lay before her. I knew then what I planned to call it was correct, Earth’s Crammed with Heaven, from E. B. Browning’s verse:

 

Earth’s crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

And only he who sees takes off his shoes;

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

 

I told her that it meant to me that because of her suffering she would see and understand so much more about heaven and earth than she ever would before. She would see that indeed, earth is crammed with heaven.

I tracked her chemo treatments on my calendar, trying to visit when possible, emailing whenever as I waited for her to come up out of the vortex of chemo and bendy bones and pain.

Last week she had another CT scan, and because of her treatments, and her faith, and the doctors and good karma and prayers and heaven and hugs and everything-we-could-throw-at-it on earth, her tumors have been eradicated. As she put it: “lots of high fives and tears in the doctor’s office.”

Oh, yeah. You go, Heather! Happy Valentine’s Day. Happy Chinese New Year.

Happy Life.

Journal Entry

To Do List, November 20, 2009

Serious List of Get Things Done (take 3, 333, 234) Date: November 20, 2009

  • Dry and style hair (yes, it’s this bad that I have to write this on the list)
  • Clean off computer desk and dust
  • Find Christmas China plates
  • Plan field trip next Friday (Galco’s, furniture place, where for lunch?)
  • Do visiting teaching
  • Decide on Christmas quilt and begin to cut square #1 of 72
  • Stitch one block of above to see if I like it
  • Make the Bday present
  • Mail Keagan’s birthday card
  • Organize calendar pages
  • Plan meals
  • Clear off microwave
  • Find red berry garland for chandelier
  • Do laundry
  • Post Munich posts on travel blog (finish that)
  • Write in Munich notebook (if you can remember any of it)
  • Write in Florence notebook (if you can remember any of it)
  • Stay off the interent unless the “Tea timer” on Dashboard is going–a nifty widget that keeps a timer going for me when I need it.
  • Is there something wrong with me when I look at my house full of stuff, junk, dust bunnies in every corner, the constant hovering of YOU’RE NOT WRITING hanging over me and I’m stretching to find things to put on this list? Time to go back to the internet, or grade something.
Christmas Quilts · Journal Entry

Piecing Equals Writing?

I’ve been working on this quilt for too long.  I’m really tired of it, but I can’t stop now as I spent a gank of money on the fabric and don’t want to just put it up on the shelf.  Besides I know I’ll like it when it’s done.  I hope.

When I was in grad school and slogging through the writing of my novel, it feel like sometimes I was being tortured, one paragraph at a time.  There’s days when even though you are sure you’re writing The Great American Novel, it’s all just too much.  I wanted short stories! Poems! Essays!  Anything that had a page count of less than twenty pages.

And now?  I want to make a baby quilt! A lap quilt! Anything with a block count of less than twenty blocks.

Journal Entry

Mastering the Art of French Cooking

Last night Dave and I went to see the movie Julie and Julia. I’d read all the pre-event publicity–the interview in the NYTimes with Nora Ephron and the reporter making an apple tart, press about the food stylists, press about the preparation of the food, director’s musings (that would be Nora Ephron again), analysis by Julia Child’s friends and relatives–and I was ready.

We stood in a line at our theater, while the local oldies station was having a Spin the Dial and DJ event to publicize the opening. While standing there, thinking how nice this was that they’d publicize the opening, a couple approached us and asked us if we’d like two free tickets. Sure, we said. They slipped in line in front of us–seems they got them from the oldies radio station–and they’d get the tickets then give the two free ones to us. We chatted for a bit, then she said, “You are in line for the GI Joe opening, right?”

My first thought was “Do we look like the type that goes to GI Joe movies?”
But I said, “No, we’re here for the Julie/Julia movie. ” Dave added, “At 7 p.m.”

Oh, they said, and started asking others if they wanted free tickets. Okay, I should have known that the oldies station wouldn’t gear up for a movie about cooking.

I noticed that the audience in our movie was trending toward Social Security recipients, but we found our seats, and endured the endless previews (We found one we won’t be seeing: “Stepfather,” about a guy who’s trying to marry into a family with children and turns out to be a murderer. Great.).

It was worth it. The movie is a four forks rating, two thumbs up, a veritable delight. We laughed and laughed and were pulled into the Meryl Streep magic, and empathized with the plight of Amy Adams’ character (as well as her husband). We got a kick out of seeing Blogger in its infancy, and liked the fact that the movie was about the cooking and creating of the food, rather than the emphasis found in many current shows–that of the consuming of it, as well as trying to create it under manufactured false pressures. (Note to producers: I want to see a reality show of trying to fix a balanced meal, having just discovered you are missing a key ingredient, all the while answering phone calls, supervising homework, and navigating the toys strewn around the kitchen by the toddler and the baby. None of this Iron Chef stuff. I want Iron Mother.)

I went home and thought about buying Mastering the Art of French Cooking, you know, just to have the book. Actually the scene with the chocolate cake was a real motivator.
The copies I saw on Amazon were running in the fifty-buck-and-up range for a vintage book.

So, we’re eating dinner tonight and I idly look over at the bookcase. There between The Naked Chef and Fannie Farmer is. . . yes! Mastering the Art of French Cooking. I recognized the cover as being similar to the one shown in the movie last night. Can’t believe it.

It’s got some food stains on the front, and when I opened the cover, neatly penciled in the corner is the price: $8.00. It’s a first edition, 10th printing in August of 1965. I must have purchased it at an estate sale here in Riverside. I wonder if I bought it at Norma Baricelli’s sale; she was a neighbor who also taught me at RCC. I have no idea really, but I did pick up quite a few cookbooks at that sale.

So now I check Amazon since I have more specific details, in order to find out the worth of this book. I like that it has the same printed cover as the one in the movie, and see the little “Ecole des 3 Gourmands” logo facing the title page. I wonder if it’s worth that 50 bucks that I’d seen before.

Nope.
It’s worth $149.